


Martyr Bird

by Killfiction



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Other, Post-Star Wars: The Clone Wars, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 16:08:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30142113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killfiction/pseuds/Killfiction
Summary: Personally, an ending always marks a beginning until you’re dead, but even then, your death is the beginning to someone else’s stride.
Kudos: 1





	Martyr Bird

**Author's Note:**

> 8 BBY, moon of Osha’ama in a galaxy far, far away, night.

For the longest time, I considered desolation akin to a word so truthfully unalike it yet phonetically the same. Learning new things like the realization that being desolate had been guised in downfall, take a bit longer to swallow down.

The truth had been so unreal, and you were expected to forgive it’s failure in timing so quickly; exactly the moment it happened. The world held you like a mother and allowed your ignorance so gracefully until she decided to rip you by the ends of your hair, cruelty in her clutch holding in on your scalp even after she dropped you in a ravine. 

It hasn’t changed since then, but the world goes on even after the most dramatic of events happen to you. It still feels like yesterday, especially when the damaged locks of hair still remain. Though, a year and a half isn’t that long.

I curled my fingers unforgivingly through my hair, raking out grease and oil through every curl, feeling the fried and kinky ends to the burnt hacks of it. Maker, I feel so gross. A day’s work didn’t pay off when you return to a dark little shack that barely holds together. At least the chirp of midnight critters ease me in the fight for a clear sweep of vision. Every Time I showered, my body piped up reasons to be afraid. Certainly I held a marriage to always looking over my shoulder, even when soap stung my eyes, weaseling their way past my thick lashes, heavy with thick buds of water. 

Obviously, there’s nobody there, but I still can’t bear to yank my body back under the hot spring cascading down my bare back. I fear it, whatever it is, creeping up behind the bend of a brick wall that separated me from the rest of the bathroom. Every creak had to incite a promise to be killed, but it was more often then not I had issues allowing myself to close my eyes. My lips tightened back a sigh as I twisted my hair into a sad knot, releasing water to the tile below me. 𝘐𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵.. 𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳.

I reached for the squeaky handle, thrusting it downward and taking a leap of faith out of the shower and straight into my towel, releasing a breath that kept fastened in my lungs painfully. This wasn’t to be the last night I subjected myself to unprovoked worries, willingly walking right into the next day without issue. Personally, I consider it a sport that kept my mind busy and the rest of my body deathly exhausted. If I was to give myself the benefit of the doubt, I’d say this was normal… oh how nothing was normal.

Even now, staring back at the foggy reflection of myself, I’m endowed with great pity and anger focused inwards. My cheeks were dark, round and blemished so clearly. My teeth snag onto chapped lips whenever I spoke, revealing the canyon between my front incisors, where I could laughably almost stick my tongue through. My hair didn’t bounce the way it did before, remaining dry and fried at uneven ends, refusing to grow out in a good way. I wish my frizz were real coils again, and that my dimples were cute and taut rather than bites at the skin. I’m so ugly, so much so I feel the distress rising in my throat as it does for literally anything I encounter. 

I saunter out, punishing myself with clenched teeth (that I deep down hoped would shatter) and labored on my clothes. The process was quickly ended with a brisk hit to my door, several others following right after. The first sent me to the floor, melodramatically slamming a palm to my chest to keep my roaring heart from forcing itself through my sternum and dancing on the floor like a fish. If I was an idiot, I would’ve screamed. Instead, I pulled myself over. Despite the surge of adrenaline nearly knocking me off my feet, I press to the door. 

𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘮, I think, almost saying out loud as I eye the familiar face through a glass slot in the door. I recognize the aging man without any ease. My fingers and feet still felt a slight numbness up to the ankle and wrist… all else was static as if a hive of bustling bees had been set loose in my body. What do I say? At the last minute I rehearsed the worst to happen, eyeing the blaster next to me. 

The door krept open, a cool breeze chilling me, hair still cold and damp. All I can do is stare questioningly at this man. Lorem was a shopkeeper I often traded with deep in town, who was a bit of an old fashioned menace who didn’t mind his own business. 

“Fyx,” he breathed out in an indescribably relieved way, it annoyed me. “You’re young, right? Alone.. out here.” He hugged himself with his coat, glancing back as if to gesture to the rest of the property. He was right, really, i lived far off from where the rest of the town did, surrounded by rambling golden mounds of field, cut by a path I made myself. This reason made it odd for Lorem to waste his time coming out to. He must’ve really needed something. 

Nonetheless, I scrunch my nose at him. The questions made me extremely uncomfortable for a first, fear gripping my shoulders uninvited. “Uh.” I start to feel sick to my stomach, untrusting of the man. Looking at him now, I for some reason note the thought that I definitely wouldn’t live up to his age. 

He gave me a dry laugh. “Sorry, hun— just, my wife and I got into a bit of a yelling match, and I need somewhere to stay for the night. You’re the next best person.” 

My eyes force themselves shut as bells ring hauntingly within my ears. I couldn’t help but cringe at the memory, reeling silently at the thought.

There are so many things I would give not to think about it right now, but lately the issue has been unavoidable. Right now, I feel the carcasses of my smoldered parents staring through me where Lorem stands. They were so welcoming to people in need. Back then, I hated that, now I resent it even more, but a tinge of homage wanted to rear. 

I hiss slightly, taking a shallow step back, just enough for the old man to walk in. His body slumped inside, tired and thankful until he stood tall in the middle of the room, his back to me. I promptly reached for the nearby blaster, tucking it into my waistband, well hiffen over a baggy shirt.

What am I doing? He’s just an old man who sells trickets by the port like many other old people, ones who have nothing better to do in their life than wait to die and sell.. useless things. I, though, have associated myself here.. paranoid.. for no reason. 

“Fyx?” I heard his voice ask my name in a question that made me jump, but there lacked an appeal of actual fear. He sounded concerned. “You look all worked up, did I scare ya?” 

I shake my head no, refusing a conversation and offering my couch, circling myself around Lorem until I was at the hallway, reaching blindly for the woven stool sitting at the entrance, 

Lorem hummed, taking a seat and untying his dirty boots and gloves. “You are too kind. I knew nobody else around this dirt bowl would offer up a night.” He rambled without a rebuttal from me, even though I wanted to; I feared being rude. “Ah,” he sighed, resting his elbows on his lap and looking back at me, to which I continued to stare. “Heh. You never talk much do ya? Damn, if I had been dumb this whole time. My old brain can’t keep up with new information. You’ve been out here for about a year, right?”

I lean myself against the wall instead of sitting down just yet, my ankle hooked around the leg of the stool. “A little over,” I speak softly, discomfort in my voice so prevalent it made me cringe in self awareness. I couldn’t stop it from here, my body.. mind.. everything felt awkward right now. This old man was certainly testing it. His tone was innocent but as far as I was concerned, his badgering felt intentional. Never before had I been upset with the town’s old people- especially Lorem. 

In fact, my days consisted of running errands back and fourth for elders with wealth. Some days im a trinket girl, slithering around in fields and picking up old natural treasures for the local jeweler, others a Duct Rat for large ships who come in to refuel. Duct Rat was on the list for today especially. A vent back fired right in my face, giving me a mouthful of soot and dust. I’ve been irritable ever since. 

“Tch,” Lorem lightheartedly scoffed at my answer. “Trust me, girl. Being here aint no place for someone so strong. The fumes from this here port are deadly. Even i'm smart enough to keep my distance from traffic. Hell, this whole rock is toxic, even more so with this Empire’s fuel harvesting… disgusting.” He sneered at the wall, tossing his gloves aggressively down into his sagging boots. 

He clearly felt strong about the empire, which again made my stomach do a flip. Oh how dumb I felt, corralled away from home by the empire only to fall right back into the empire’s arms. I would’ve been far away if the issue that I particularly weren’t safe anywhere else. I never felt safe, even here. Every kriffing minute of my life is spent thinking about bad things happening and freaking out over stupid tasks. It’s taken me over. 

“I’ll be fine, but thank you,” I ascertained in response to his strenuous nattering. I wasn’t going to give this bag of dust an opening to give me another thing to worry about. As far as I’m concerned, he’s just saying some bantha crap he heard offhandedly. I feel fine, actually. I should know, my face was blasted off with a cloud of backed up smoke and gasses from a fuel guzzler. Not feeling much different. 

I watched him shrug his shoulders. “Alright,” he whined, giving in to my words. I didn’t mean to sound brash, but apparently it wasn’t enough to shut him up. “But seriously, that empire is no good. If they weren’t here, young folk like you wouldn’t be washing up.”

“Hm,” I hummed to be polite, pushing aside the idea to sit down just yet. A twinkle from across the room reminded me to to be, and what to do. “There’s more? Young? People?” I ask robotically just to keep him busy, scooping up a blanket from a chair and moving towards the glint of light. It was piled on a stack of crates and knick knacks, hidden by a shadow normally but scant moonlight had caught it’s guilded edges. I probably shouldn’t have polished it. 

“Yeah! That one fellow, Warner, he came to shop.. complemented the work you did for me. I put in some good word, actually. Forgot to tell ya.” The old man blabbered willingly to me, finally off the topic of the Empire and seemingly distracted with conversation. Maker, give his guy a stick and he burns a forest. 

I wasn’t paying attention enough to what he was saying to give an honest reaction. “Oh, thank you.” I masted the blanket, quickly cloaking the object and bundling it against my stomach, feeling the cold hard surface of it right through the cloth. 

“So you’ve met Warner? He’s a hard workin boy! Just like you.” I only now realized the ancient blaster brain was playing matchmaker, but really it wasn’t the time for me to growl about it. Whatever kept the man busy..

I look back momentarily, pinching my face into a tight lipped smile. “No, I haven’t, actually. Tell me about him.” My hands curled under the blanket, meticulously holding it firm and still, trying to be as gentle and aloof as I can. Now I just had to.. get it into my room. Maker I’m so stupid- why did I even leave this out in the first place? 

“Gah, tall fellow, brunet. He looked nice for an officer.”

I had just begun to inch across the floor boards, my feet firm and flat as I crept, hugging the wrapped object even tighter to my body. “W-what? What did you just say?” I stammered, freezing still in my place and staring down Lorem. Terror shook me. There was an imperial officer here? They never came. Kriff, this isn’t good at all this is horrible!

“Yeah I know, Empire is trash but I really think— hey what’s th-“

𝙏𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙠. 

My wobbly arms gave in, slick metal dropping straight from under it’s cloth guise and hitting the floor 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥. A gasp came from my mouth as all I could do was stare down at it… my own helmet, black as night with the true accented mint green coupled with gray and white… True Tesura colors. 

I heard Lorem gasp as well, feeling him jump with the creak of floor boards. “Where did you get that!?” He asked urgently, 

I couldn’t articulate a quick enough lie, only springing to grab my helm, glancing to Lorem. I must’ve looked like a deer in headlights, his face contorting to recognize my evident fear. “Are you—“ he started up again, eyes like saucers. 

My blood ran cold knowing he’d realized it. I heard the ghost of my brother lean over my shoulder in that very moment. 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭. 𝘞𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘴. His words left a resonance, coming back into divine timing as if he was actually right there to say it.

My blaster had produced itself onto my palm from my waistband, trained right on Lorem. “Shut up.” I threaten shakily, fighting to keep my arm still. “You never saw anything outside of here, and- and you couldn’t ever imagine me being,,.” I am stunted, unable to call myself the very thing I know I am. “I’m 𝙣𝙤𝙩 mandalorian.”

His hands shot up in surrender. “Woah! Hey! No! Trust me, I couldn’t make that up even if I wanted to.. you’re far from what I imagined them to be.” His chest rose and fell rabidly like prey. For a moment, zeal graced my flesh, and for once I wasn’t the one cowering at an issue, yet I was still trembling like a quaking hill. 

My legs bent like a newborn fawn at his beg for mercy, arm dropping limp as I choked out a breath of relief… I still felt terrified. “O-Ok—“

“Y-You can’t be.. be staying here around like that. The Empire is hunting your kind. They killed all the jedi, and they’re on their way to pushing you to extinction.” Lorem pointed to my helmet, flickering his eyes back and forth from it to me. 

I shoulder my helmet against my gut again as if to protect it. “I know, that’s why I’m here,” I breathed out defensively. Today was too stressful, and It was difficult to handle it— I was barely even, and my front was to break as panic shook me. 

That Warner; the officer.. He would be to kill me if I was found, skinned of my Beskar and executed. The Great Purge still trampled on, and all I heard of it was my people dying. At this rate, I was in the dark and confident I was the last of the mando’ade.. I was definitely the last of clan Tesura, so sure the last surviving of my family were killed or forced into subjugation and stripped of their title. 

The guilt of a survivor made me even more nervous than I was before.. Before the night the Empire directly attacked my clan. I’m confident some asshole still wants to finish the job. It was a game to them. All except me and my brother were defenseless. They were pacifists for crying out loud! 

“Now now, calm down- it’s fine, i'm not tellin’ nobody. You’re a good kid, your life ain't worth wasting to these monsters.” My eyes shot to Lorem, who cautiously approached me with outstretched arms and still palms like I was a cornered, hurt, stray. 

My body shook and I let out a whimper, stumbling down into the seat I was going to earlier. I hugged my helmet tighter, feeling my throat close and legs begin to shake involuntarily. “G-Give me a moment.” I whisper, watching Lorem closely. 

“Maker,” he stressed a meowl, forking his dirty fingers into his shaggy gray hair. “You’re dead terrified! What the hell did those imps do to you?? Your people are- are warriors!” He looked and sounded more concerned than anything, but his words hit me like insults. 

“They killed all I had,” I growled through clenched teeth that I struggled not to let clatter. “Drove me out of my home and here. I’m NOT a warrior.” I felt anger bubble in my throat, translating it past my crooked teeth. 

“What do you mean you’re ‘not a warrior’?? I’ve heard stories. You Mandalorians are raised to be valiant opposers to jedi.” He argued. 

“Don’t insult me!” I barked, resorting to picking at the worn paint on my helm. “My family were pacifists! They didn’t wear armor and fight.”

Lorem furrowd his brows. “But you do??”

“Yes! My brother taught me how.” Why the hell was I answering to this old man?? In MY home!! For kriff’s sake, Lorem couldn’t be any more of a reminder that these wounds were still wide open. “It’s none of your business anyway.” Tears pricked my eyes as I no longer could hold in the pressure. 

He sighed loudly. “That officer is here for something.”

“Stop” I spit out, feeling a harsh force press my lungs flat and squeeze my stomach, threatening to expell my lunch. 

“If you’re trying to survive, you’re gonna have to be a little bit more brave than this! You do this in front of the wrong person and you’re dead. You’re helpless, girl! This is a trying world and you’re gonna have to try harder to live! It’s harsh but it’s true! Being born with a target on your back means people are gonna aim to shoot.”

“What do you k-know,” I shutter, glaring in a truthfully helpless way. He was so right and I hated it. I’m weak. I feel pathetic as is, and I was being told my own thoughts by someone who has back pain. 

Lorem scolded me with a pointed finger. “I lived this long! I saw this war! I wasn’t on this planet my whole life, if anything I know more about keeping up with mother nature than you. You’re smart, but not quick enough for war. Those rebels are the strongest of us who bite back when bitten. You.. you run.”

He proceeded to continue. “Instead of doing anything, you worry yourself sick.. sickness leads to death, and you’re letting it, Fyx.”

“I’m not sick. You don’t know me, Lorem!” I cry out, unable to force the man out of my house, paralyzed to the woven chair that anchored me to consciousness. 

“I can see it on your face. You’re sick like a dog with a little thing called trauma. Been there, done that. I SERVED in that war. The Clone War.” He paused, narrowing his wrinkled eyes at me further. “Fight for yourself.”

I felt like a child, tears filling my eyes until they blinded me. “I- I want to!”

“Then do it.” Lorem said firmly, snatching up his boots and gloves. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay for the night, but I’m coming back tomorrow.”

“No.. No.. WHY?” I scramble to ask, helmet rolling right off my lap and onto the floor as I stood.

“I’m helping you, Fyx. Be ready, you’re startin somewhere.” He didn’t even tie his boots before leaving, simply trudging out the door.

The sound of midnight critters returned again, complete silence as I was now on the floor curled with my knees to my chest. What now? 

𝙏𝙤 𝘽𝙚 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙙…


End file.
